


The Unknown Postulant

by dizzy_fire



Category: Cadfael Chronicles - Ellis Peters
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy_fire/pseuds/dizzy_fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young postulant at Godric's Ford is found unconscious in the fields. It seems that she has sneaked out from the convent to escape an unwanted vocation. But Sister Magdalen has some doubts, and asks Brother Cadfael to help her get to the bottom of the mystery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unknown Postulant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtb/gifts).



> Thank you for this opportunity to write about Sister Magdalen and Cadfael! Hope you enjoy this little casefic.

It was an August morning, mild and gentle, like the last embrace of a fading summer. The nuns of Godric's Ford filed out into the fields in an orderly fashion; the Benedictines valued hard work as yet another form of devotion, and there was much to do before the coming of the autumn.

It was a young novice who made the discovery, a girl no older than fifteen. As her eyes alighted on the unexpected sight, she dropped the basket she had been carrying, and covered her mouth with trembling hands – for before her lay the unmoving body of another girl, her face stark and pale against the grass. The novice cried out; the calm of the morning was well and truly broken.

Sister Magdalen arrived at the scene at a brisk pace, her fine brow creased over her sharp eyes. One of the sisters had already placed a folded cloak under the girl's head, and two more were at work fashioning a makeshift stretcher to carry her into the safety of the cloister. The girl was alive, it had transpired, though it was yet uncertain if she would remain so. Her face was also not unknown to them.

“It is poor Goda,” Sister Idonea exclaimed with distress in her voice, “the new postulant who has arrived only four days ago!”

Sister Magdalen nodded at her with the air of a general receiving a report from one of her troops, though she did not need to be reminded who Goda was. As the acknowledged leader of the cell in the final days of Mother Mariana's illness, it fell to her to know the convent and each of its inhabitants, down to every novice, postulant and lay servant. It was a duty that sat well with her. She had joined the Order later than was usual, after a life most would call quite impious – she had for many years been the favoured mistress of a wealthy noble – and taken the penitent name of Magdalen, though it was done more to please her new sisters than out of any genuine penitence on her part. Yet, though her motives in taking the veil might have been more practical than spiritual, she had grown to love her little community, worked for it tirelessly and protected it fiercely from any threats. Such an attack on a postulant of the Order was without precedent, and Sister Magdalen's plump, normally pleasant face was set in a way that promised dire retribution to the perpetrators.

She studied the unconscious girl closely, looking for any signs that would explain what had befallen her, and why. She noted the bruise blooming purple on her face, the bare and bloodied feet, the callouses on her strong hands. With some surprise, she also saw that Goda's hair had been shorn, and rather inexpertly so, as if someone had cut it in a hurry. Sister Magdalen closed her eyes, deep in thought.

At last they could move Goda onto a stretcher, and carry her home to make her as comfortable as she could be. Other than her bruised face and the cuts on the soles of her feet, she had no wounds on her, but she was burning with fever, and made small, incoherent sounds as they lowered her onto a bed. Sister Magdalen herself sat by her and bathed her forehead with cool water. Suddenly the girl opened her eyes, green and intent in their feverish brightness.

“I must go,” she wailed, trying to heave herself off the bed.

“You must do no such thing,” said Magdalen, stern but kind. “You are safe here.”

“I must go,” the girl repeated in a whisper, though she fell back upon the pillow, as her strength faded. “For he will kill me if he meets me on his way.”

“I will protect you, and no one shall bring you harm,” Sister Magdalen said sharply. “Tell me his name.”

But the girl's eyelids fluttered closed and she slipped back into her fevered dreams. Sister Magdalen brushed the clumsily shorn hair off Goda's face and placed a kiss on her brow, then called out for Sister Petronilla to take up the vigil in her stead. She had to move, and move quickly, for such wickedness against the helpless could not be left unpunished.

***

Sister Magdalen's visits to the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul in Shrewsbury were infrequent, but always welcome, at least to Brother Cadfael. Some other monks, including the ever-diligent Brother Jerome – never so diligent, thought Cadfael with a smile, as when he was finding fault with other human beings – were still uneasy about her past, though most would admit that her conduct at Godric's Ford had been nothing short of exemplary. In any event, news of her arrival travelled fast, and Cadfael was able to meet with her in the courtyard, just as her mule was being led away to the stables.

“Brother Cadfael!” she exclaimed with pleasure, and gave him one of her charming smiles, the dimple in her cheek surfacing for just a moment. “I had been hoping to see you. I came to Shrewsbury to seek out Sheriff Beringar, but they tell me he is away, and won't be back until tomorrow, and I need assistance most urgently. Will you go with me to Father Abbott?”

“Certainly – and if I may help you, I will.”

“It concerns a postulant at my cell,” Sister Magdalen began with unaccustomed seriousness. “We have found her in the fields, beaten and most dreadfully ill, and the thing disturbs me greatly.”

She spoke no more until they had crossed the courtyard and were well out of hearing of even the most curious ears. Once she judged it to be safe, she continued. “She was found unconscious and at first I thought she might have been abducted by some evil man to sport with; but the sisters assure me she had been seen going to her bed, and no noise or struggle was heard in the night. Thus, it would appear she left the convent out of her own volition. She has marks on her feet as if she'd been running barefoot for a long time, and in her delirium she spoke of a man chasing her, though she could not name him. And her hair had been cut off, Brother – we do not cut our postulants' hair until they begin their novitiate, and she was far enough away from that – she'd only been four days at Godric's Ford!” She paused for a while, as if gathering her strength, and then looked up at Cadfael with a sudden flash in her eye. “And yet there's more. Brother Cadfael, though all the sisters recognised her, I do not believe that the girl we found is the same one we welcomed into our community these four days past.”

***

Sister Magdalen obtained Abbott Radulfus' permission to have Cadfael accompany her back to Godric's Ford easily enough. She relayed her concern about the unfortunate girl's health, although she left out some of the details of the event, and her own doubts as to the identity of the victim. Whether or not the Abbott believed it was the full story was a matter of some doubt; but it was enough to convince him to send Cadfael out on a mission of mercy, and to have word delivered to the castle that Hugh Beringar's presence was needed at Godric's Ford as soon as possible. Whatever could be done for the poor girl would be done with the greatest expediency.

Once on the road, Sister Magdalen spoke more of the girl and of her own suspicions. Goda hailed from Grendone, a small holding west of Godric's Ford. It was known – though the girl had not spoken of it herself – that she was the illegitimate daughter of the lord of the manor, the late Reinaud Sorel, whose dying wish had sent her to the convent. “To offer perpetual penance for the sins of his life, as his letter to me explained,” Sister Magdalen said dryly. “Was it not magnanimous of him, to show so much consideration to Heaven when the course of his earthly life had almost run dry?”

“Certainly,” replied Cadfael mildly, though with a glint in his eye that told Magdalen he understood and agreed with her. “And at the same time, it left him free to enjoy whatever sins he could still make time for, since he would be well-provided with her prayers in any case!”

Sister Magdalen laughed. “That is my usual experience with men who would have others atone for their sins in their place. I do not doubt you are right, Brother. But be it as it may, at last the old man died, and the girl faithfully presented herself at our cell. She seemed to be accepting of her lot; a quiet girl, not much given to keep company with the others, but she was much drawn to the few books that we possess. She was illiterate, but showed great interest in the art, and I saw promise in her. Why might we not have our own copyist? Perhaps God had sent her to us for a reason, though not the reason that her rascal of a father had imagined. But then,” Magdalen sighed, “she disappeared.”

Cadfael considered the situation. A young woman, born on the wrong side of the marriage bed, forced by her father into a vocation which she may not have wanted... “Is it possible,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “that she was not as resigned to her fate as you were led to believe? She might have escaped home, and been forced back by an angry relative – her hair cut off as punishment. If she truly felt no desire for convent life...”

“Then I would have sent her home with my blessing, and I said as much to her when she arrived. No, Brother! There is one more element to this mystery. As I have told you, Goda had disappeared from the convent, and then we found a girl who looked much like her – but I do not think that she is Goda.

“The resemblance is great,” Sister Magdalen continued after a moment of silence, “but certain things stood out to me as changed. Her hands, Cadfael – they are calloused, as you might expect from an illegitimate daughter who most likely did a servant's work at her father's estate. But I could swear they had been quite smooth on the day she first arrived; I'd noticed that, because it seemed unusual to me then. Her eyes, too, seem to be of a different shade, and her voice lighter, although these may be the effects of the fever she's suffering from. But yet I do not think I'm wrong!”

Cadfael did not think so, either. Sister Magdalen's eye was sharp, her judgement sound. If she thought the girl was a stranger, he was inclined to believe her. But the question remained – who was the unknown postulant?

***

Sister Petronilla met them at the gate. One look at her red-rimmed eyes told them what had happened, before the nun could even speak.

“Welcome back, Sister Magdalen, and welcome, Brother. It was good of you to come to our aid. Alas, you have troubled yourself in vain. Goda is dead. Poor lamb! She spoke no more, and succumbed to the fever scarce hours ago.”

Sister Petronilla led them to where the girl's body had already been dressed and laid out to await burial. Cadfael felt a deep sadness looking at Goda – or whoever else she might be. Young and pale, her face had the peaceful expression of a sleeping child. He studied the ugly bruise that marred one of her cheeks, and prayed that in her final moments she had at last known that she was in a safe place, where evil could not reach her.

But it had reached her, somehow, beyond these cloister walls; though there were no marks on her other than the bruise and the wounds on her feet, the fever that took her must have been born of terror too strong for her body to withstand. A human hand had pushed her, stumbling, onto this path, running for the safety of Godric's Ford, past the borders of exhaustion. _He will kill me if he meets me on his way!_ Even if she had slipped away to escape an unwanted vocation, what manner of man would punish her so, no matter how great the outrage?

The monk looked at Sister Magdalen and saw the same thoughts reflected in her face. They both knew what they owed to the poor girl, laid out so quietly in her final plea. And then something else caught Cadfael's eye.

“Is this the dress she was found wearing?” At Magdalen's affirmation, he touched the fabric, tested its make. “It's of good quality.”

“Better than the clothes she wore when she arrived,” Sister Magdalen confirmed.

“You said you knew about Goda's situation, although she had not spoken about it to you. Was it only from her father's letter, or might there be another at the convent who knows her family?”

Indeed there was one – Sister Agnes, a pleasant, matronly woman, who had joined the Order several years before Sister Magdalen herself. She had but a short tale to tell, not having been to Grendone in many years, but she did remember Goda as a child, and had to avert her eyes from the body, until Magdalen compassionately proposed to discuss the matter outside.

“She was a little mite when I left, but such a sweet child! It was known to all she was from the wrong side of the sheets, but what of it? Hardly the child's fault! No worse that Master Reinaud's true-born daughter was she.”

Brother Cadfael raised an eyebrow. “So there was a legitimate daughter, as well?”

“Aye, Emelina – they were of an age, or near enough. This little one was made servant to her sister,” Agnes said with a note of disapproval, “and toddled after her as soon as they were both old enough to walk. Goda's mother died in childbirth, you see. Still,” she added reluctantly, “I suppose it was good of Master Reinaud to take in this girl and raise her at the manor. Or perhaps it was Emelina's mother, Mistress Hawis – she always had a kinder heart than that old boor.”

Brother Cadfael and Sister Magdalen regarded each other thoughtfully. Before either of them spoke, Sister Agnes added, “I hope Goda did not run away. She had always been such a good, dutiful child! But if she had, I cannot think of anyone at home who would treat her so. The old man is dead, and I would say good riddance, if it were not an unchristian thing to say. Mistress Hawis is likewise dead these past ten years. They had no sons. Only Emelina remains – and she was a good girl, too, if not as quick to make friends as Goda. They were close, like any sisters should be. No, Mistress Emelina would not have her harmed.”

Brother Cadfael closed his eyes. People could change, and not always for the better! But there was another suspicion growing in his mind. Tomorrow, first thing in the morning, he would set out for Grendone.

***

The Grendone manor was a cheerless sight: a low, squat building, tidy but cold and uninviting, in spite of the smoke rising from the kitchen chimney. Not many were about; the normal hustle and bustle of a living community seemed subdued. The few servants they saw regarded them with fearful eyes. Cadfael was at once glad for the company of Sister Magdalen, who would naturally not be left behind on such an errand – and wary, for he had the same feeling he'd sometimes felt in his days as a sailor: that they were venturing into unknown waters while a storm built up over their heads.

The feeling only strengthened as they went inside. They were escorted by a man with a sneer on his face and a sword at his side. The other servants took care not to approach them – or was it the man-at-arms that they avoided? Cadfael had seen a few more of his ilk outside, amusing themselves with a game of dice. Their voices had been the only noise in an otherwise quiet courtyard.

The lady of the house met them in the main hall, but she was not alone. A tall, well-favoured man was at her side – or rather, she was at his side, for she seemed as quiet and fearful around him as her servants in the presence of the men-at-arms. She kept her eyes downcast, and her face in the shadows.

“Welcome, Brother... and Sister!” called the man. “I am Eudo de Hokesham. Have you any business here?”

“Welcome, my lord. I am Brother Cadfael of the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, and this is Sister Magdalen of Godric's Ford. We hoped to speak with Mistress Emelina Sorel.”

The lady moved. “I am she. Eudo...” She raised her head and looked straight at them for the first time. “He is my betrothed.”

Brother Cadfael's mild expression did not change, even as he silently offered a quick prayer to Saint Winifred. Sister Magdalen's hand brushed his elbow; he knew she had seen what he had seen, and grasped the meaning of it. For they had, for a brief moment, looked at a girl who was the very image of young Goda... down to the bruise marking one of her pale cheeks.

Eudo snorted impatiently. “Indeed, I am Emelina's intended, and will be her husband soon enough. You may speak to me.”

“As you wish,” said Cadfael evenly, “and it may well be for the best, since what I am about to say concerns you most of all people. We are here on behalf of a young postulant of the convent at Godric's Ford. She was found after wandering in the woods for a while, sick and delirious with fear. And,” he spoke the lie without hesitation, certain in his mind that it was close enough to the truth, “she said that it was you who had mistreated her so.”

Eudo laughed, a harsh, barking sound. “Had she, now? That base-born wench! What if I had sent her back to the nunnery, after we caught her sneaking here like a felon? She should reckon herself happy not to have been whipped into the bargain.” He caught Emelina's arm and gripped it hard enough to make her cry out. “I have been merciful with her, and she dares accuse me of mistreatment! I should hope you have come to thank me, Sister – I did bring a stray sheep safely back into your fold, after all!”

“No,” said Cadfael, looking at Mistress Emelina. She raised her head again and returned the look, her eyes bright with desperation. “Not safely. She is dead.”

Eudo's lip curled in a sneer. “Then all is settled, is it not? Perhaps God saw fit to punish her for her sin. Let this be a lesson for you, Sister – take better care of your novices in the future!”

Brother Cadfael started to move closer to the centre of the room. Sister Magdalen followed silently, her eyes fixed on Eudo, her hand clenched tightly on her walking stick. The man-at-arms, who had been loitering by the wall, made as if to intercept them, but Eudo's imperious gesture stopped him in his tracks.

The distraction was enough for Emelina. She twisted away from Eudo's grasp and ran towards Sister Magdalen. “It's true!” she cried. “It's all true! My sister's blood is on him – and Aylwin's – Eudo killed him! Murderer!” She caught hold of Magdalen's sleeve. “Sister, I beg you, please forgive me! I took Goda's place––”

“Be silent!” Eudo shouted.

“I shall not! Sister Magdalen, please, it was to be for three days only – she had a boy––”

“Enough!” Eudo and Cadfael moved at the same time, one to strike, the other to protect. The younger man's face was livid. “Out of my way, you meddling fool!”

Cadfael avoided the punch with ease. He had, after all, been a soldier; this young brute was nothing more than a thug who fought best against those who could not fight back. Eudo snarled and drew a dagger. He was beyond the bonds of reason, and, for the first time, Cadfael wondered if his risky gamble had not doomed them all. His opponent advanced; the monk fell back, searching for anything he could use to parry the incoming slash.

But the attack did not come – or rather, it came from and unexpected source. Sister Magdalen pushed past him, swinging her walking stick with an expertise that belied her nun's habit. The blow caught Eudo on the temple. He dropped the dagger and slowly crumpled to the floor.

But they were not victorious yet. The man-at-arms narrowed his eyes and unsheathed his sword. Slowly, deliberately, he moved to block their exit from the room.

Cadfael, Magdalen and Emelina drew together as one. The monk put himself in front of the terrified girl. Sister Magdalen brandished her stick in a threatening manner. And then, just as it seemed that they must fight for their lives again, voices rang out in the courtyard.

“Halt!” someone cried. “Surrender before the sheriff!”

The man-at-arms proved himself a brighter sort than his master. Without hesitation, he threw his sword to the ground.

“Go,” he said. “I will not be hanged for the likes of him.”

***

Hugh Beringar's party had arrived just in time to capture Eudo de Hokesham and his men. Eudo himself was alive, and slowly regained consciousness, though he was still groggy from the blow Sister Magdalen had dealt him.

“I was given your message by the nuns at Godric's Ford,” Hugh explained, smiling. “But then, I had already been expecting trouble – how could I not, when Brother Cadfael was involved?”

This was most likely true enough, Cadfael agreed placidly. However, he added to himself (and to Saint Winifred, in case she might be listening), sometimes the best we fallible mortals could do was to refashion our little vices into something approaching virtue. Emelina, at least, was safe, and for that he was glad.

He and Sister Magdalen stayed with Emelina after Hugh and his men had gone, to offer such comfort as might be needed. Now that the immediate danger had been lifted, the girl allowed herself to cry for her lost sister, but she was also determined that they should both know the full story. She began in a collected manner, though her eyes were still wet with tears.

“Goda was kind – kinder than I am, in truth, and braver, too. She did not want to escape her fate. But she had a boy she loved dearly – Aylwin was his name, a servant at this estate. She would have gone and left him all the same, for the good of our father's soul, but that I found her crying inconsolably on the eve of her departure. I offered to trade places with her. She would not hear of it at first, but slowly I convinced her to agree to three days only. I had a suitor myself,” she added bitterly, “so we decided that it was for the best. In the morning, I went to Godric's Ford as Goda, and she remained here, pretending to be me. I'm certain none of the servants were fooled. They have known us both since we were children. But they also knew of her love for Aylwin, and pitied them both, so they would not have spoken out whether or not they recognised her. My poor Goda!” she cried suddenly. “I wish I had never thought of this – she is now dead because of me!”

“No,” said Sister Magdalen, drawing the girl close. “Do not place the weight of another man's sin on your shoulders. Whether or not your plan was well-advised, I need not say here – but it was innocent.”

Emelina swallowed her tears and continued her tale. “Three days passed quickly. I sneaked out of the convent on the third night and went to the place where Aylwin and Goda were to wait for me. But I did not find them there. Instead... I found Eudo.

“I did not expect to see him; in truth, we have met only rarely, since our lands do not border on one another. I did not know it then, but he had arrived at my home earlier that day, uninvited, hoping to secure his interests and arrange a quick marriage now that my father was dead. He surprised Goda and Aylwin together; enraged, at first he mistook Goda for me, but then he recognised her. He had Aylwin tortured to force them both into confessing where I was. Afterwards, he had the boy killed, and turned Goda out of the house. He admitted so much to me when he saw me. Then, after I had been dragged back to the manor, I saw Aylwin myself – butchered horribly, lying in his own blood...

“Eudo said we were to be married within a fortnight. He did not think I could refuse him – and I could not, would not have, for I was terribly afraid. If it had not been for you, Sister, and for the good Brother here... But what shall become of me now?” she asked desperately. “Sister Magdalen, please, will you allow me to return to Godric's Ford with you?”

Magdalen looked at her with wise, sad eyes. “And do you truly feel the convent will suit you? You are yet very young. You're free of Eudo – do not fear, the sheriff is a just man and will not release a murderer that easily. Why do you wish to take the veil, truly?”

“You are right that I fear Eudo, and other men like him, Sister. I have no desire to marry, and yet there will be others wanting my hand – or rather, the estate that comes with it. But,” the girl said seriously, “I do not ask you to admit me only because I wish to hide from the world. I was happy at Godric's Ford, happier than I had been anywhere else. You were kind enough to show me the manuscripts. How Goda would have loved them! I wish to learn how to create such beauty, for the glory of God and for the betterment of our convent, to repay you for your kindness and to honour the memory of my sister. I understand if you wish me to consider my decision, and I will wait any period that you deem proper, but in truth, I have already decided. My heart was set on this path from the night I ventured out to meet Goda and Aylwin. I wanted to tell her to resign from her postulancy. I could take her place at the convent, under my own name this time. Our father's soul would still be well-served, and Goda could marry Aylwin as was their desire. Oh, how I wish I had proposed this from the start!”

***

Magdalen and Cadfael walked back to Godric's Ford in companionable silence. They understood each other well enough to see that their thoughts were following the same trail, and so, when the nun finally spoke, she did so with a light, conspiratorial smile.

“I fear this may be hypocrisy on my part, Brother, but though she speaks of working for the glory of God, I do not quite believe that her calling is of a spiritual nature.”

“Perhaps not,” answered the monk with a smile of his own. “But then, she does feel a calling, even if she is called more to the books than to prayer and devotion. Where else could she answer that call? Perhaps the good Lord did send Emelina to you for a reason, though not the reason you or I would expect.”

Sister Magdalen recognized her own words, now repeated at her, and chuckled. After a moment, however, she grew more serious. “I wish there was more we could have done for Goda.”

“Yes, and for Aylwin, too, and for any other poor soul suffering from violence and injustice. But we must content ourselves with what we could do, and did. Sometimes that is all that one might ask for.”

Sister Magdalen smiled one more time. The dimple showed in her cheek like a warm ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. “Yes, Brother, perhaps you are right. In this imperfect world we must deliver whatever good we can, and prevent whatever evil is within our power to stop.”

“And we should feel blessed that we are able to do so,” said Cadfael with conviction.


End file.
